Ni hao, pardners. I am so loving my side of the Far West journey. Happy to share. Because of it, I picked up a Spark Chart for Mandarin Chinese, from Barnes & Noble last month. I am mixing in quite a few words with my southwest vocabulary. It is a nice flavor to add.

CANGUAN = Restauraunt. I am sure I'll get caught using Cantina.

I will share more soon. I have plenty more Sunflower Trail that is. Unless I get told otherwise. From one fan to the all the members and core team, Thank You. Stay Safe. Jesse

Scabby Toe stared over his shoulder at his travelling companion. They were straddled on the same muddy-brown horse. The other man equaled him in size and weight. They were very close in age too. They both had short white scraggly hair. Scabby had a couple days’ worth of stubble hanging on his long face. The other man had wispy smoke white hair dangling from his from his chin, but remained mostly clean shaven.

“Scab, why did you buy another dumb horse?”

“Dumb?” Scabby turned to look at the back of the horse’s head. He leaned down and patted the horse’s neck. “Don’t listen to him fella.”

The other man slid off the horse, and landed flat footed on a scrabble patch of rough ground. He stumbled for a short, but kept his footing. He then pulled his tunic straight and stretched.

“PAINT? I tell you, we are not lost. We should just go through that line of timbers, and then we will be on the trail to Seven Rats.”

“Bahh. Your mother is a Bison. You go where you want.”

Painted Feather slapped at his garments. Clouds of dust wafted down from his small body. He then ran his fingers through his hair to remove bits of dried leaves. Then he caught a whiff of the air.

“Rotten Eggs?”

“There you go! Devil’s Tea Creek. We’re not lost!” Scabby exclaimed. He then halted the horse, and then slid off himself. He kept hold of the reigns and guided the horse to some fresh purple tinged grass. He tied the straps to a Skagget Tree. He left enough slack so the horse could get at the sweet tasting grass. He proceeded to stretch also.

“I’m thirsty now. Thanks to you Scab, for shielding your face with the canteen.” Painted Feather said while scanning the area around them.

Dench stood at the bar, and watched the room through the almost counter-wide mirror hanging on the tent frame. He had a half-full bottle of whisky in front of him. He held a partially full yellow stained glass that was leaking the tea-brown alcohol over his fingers. He sunk the liquid down his throat in one gulp. The burn was already gone with earlier belts. He was fairly numb, and his vision was at that point of fuzziness he liked.

“Yeh-haarp!” he said through a belch.

He could still make out the fine curvy shape of Davalia as she strutted around through the Saloon’s guests. There weren’t many of them, and he didn’t mind. That meant there was a good chance he could spend more time with her. He slopped another fill of the glass from the bottle. He smacked the bottle down too heavily, but didn’t care. He picked the glass up, turned to face her general direction.

“Hars to that sparkle o’ my eye.” Dench mumbled. He held it up towards her, and drops of whiskey flung out onto the dirt floor. He drank what little remained in the glass.

Dench was then undressing Davalia with his unfocused eyes. He imagined watching himself pull at her black silk dress to uncover more her shoulders and chest. He could almost feel how smooth her cream colored skin was. He wanted to lean into her and smell the cherry blossom aroma of her hair. In his mind, he believed she was ready for a good time, and then the room went sideways. The floor hit him in the face. Laughter boiled up from inside the small canvas covered room. It was the last thing he heard.

Salvo Trace was beginning to worry. His friends were to meet him here in the village of Seven Rats. It wasn’t really more than a trail stop. He sat at a table in the back corner of the Cactus Bandit Saloon. His ice blue eyes scanned the room. Just a couple local yokels scattered themselves throughout the room. The building was a temporary shelter. The lower walls offered partial protection, while the rest of the building was made up from a patchwork of tattered canvas sheets. Many of them were stained with water or mold. The room accommodated maybe a half dozen tables with rickety chairs.

The bar counter was several long boards lashed together with hemp rope. Several used barrels held the bar up off the dirt floor. An oxidized nickel mirror hung on the frame behind the wall. The brawny bartender just finished polishing it for the third time. He stepped out back behind the saloon through a rear facing door flap. Another lone fellow wearing range clothes faced the mirror. His face flushed brightly from alcohol, as he drank heavily from an unlabeled bottle.

Moving through the room was a plump woman. Her hair was very long, black, and straight. She had some sort of white flower with pink and red splotched in the petals. It was tucked neatly in her hair. Her tight dress revealed an overwhelming amount of cleavage. The silky like print of the dress was a grey two-tone vision of vines and flowers. Her smile was wide and very cheerful. Many people watched her strut around the small room. She moved gracefully. When Salvo could see her face, he thought she was pleasantly attractive.

He caught sight of the drifter at the bar. He filled his glass again, and this time he turned out facing the crowd. Salvo couldn’t make out what he was saying, though it was an obvious toast. It was most likely to the only woman in the saloon. She didn’t notice. In fact, nobody else noticed either. He belted down a near empty glass, and then drifter’s eyes glazed over immediately. Salvo could easily guess what would be coming next.

Painted Feather and Scabby Toe walked up the trail towards Seven Rats. Their horse followed behind Scabby. Paint wore a plain white outfit. His tunic and slacks looked homespun and wrinkled. He wore sandals. Scab as always, wore the same dingy bright colored clothes he is known for. His ragged turquoise top had seen better days. Scabby also wore a purple sash wrapped tightly around his waist. He walked bare foot. Neither man was wearing a hat, nor were they armed with any weapons. They didn’t own any knives, swords, or pistols.

“I know you grumpy ol’ man, but here we are anyway.” Scab huffed.

“And probably three days late too, as usual.” Paint remarked.

Scabby just watched ahead. His frustration became most visible in his face. They continued into town. The sun hung high in the sky. Paint searched the meager buildings and spotted the saloon easily. He turned towards it, and Scabby slowly followed.

When they got up next to it, Scabby found a post stuck in the ground with an empty iron ring in it. He tied the horse reigns to the ring. He turned to the horse and patted its flank.

“I hope I can find you some clean water boy.” Scabby told the horse.

He left the horse, and then followed Painted Feather into the Saloon. It didn’t take long for their eyes to adjust. The white canvas roof let plenty of light spill through. They both scanned the room. Scab and Paint spotted the man in the back corner. He wasn’t much younger than they are, but they all could fill the span of a wood nickel within each other.

Salvo’s brassy blonde hair shimmered slightly as he nodded at them. His outfit was similar to Painted Feather’s wardrobe selection. He didn’t like it much because it was made of an itchy fabric. He did wear a pale blue silk cloth around his neck. Despite its blandness, it came very close to matching his eyes.

The barkeep watched the customers come in. He held three empty glasses clamped in the pudgy fingers of one hand, as he held an unlabeled bottle by the stubby neck in his other hand. He carried it all to the back corner table and set it in front of Salvo.

“Thank you Gatch.” Salvo said as he got to his feet. He came out from behind the table. He gave sturdy hugs to each Scabby and Paint. Despite their trail-worn demeanor, they welcomed the friendly embrace.

“It’s been awhile kid.” Scabby said.

“Too true my friend.”

They all sat across from each other. Salvo had a smile plastered across his face that seemed a league wide. He reached for the bottle, popped the cork stopper, and filled all three glasses. After he sat the bottle down, he pushed a glass towards Scabby and Painted Feather at the same time. He remembered the drifter from earlier and chuckled. Scab and Paint raised eyebrows as to question Salvo. He just smiled at them.

“Just take it in slow and easy fellas. I think it’s best to savor it. The cactus juice is spiked with the local stink water.” Salvo held up his glass to his friends in salute.

“My name?” the old man asked. The grizzled old geezer sat still in the rocking chair. He ran a cool gaze across his small audience as he rubbed his leathery face with a gnarled hand. “What is it with you buttons?”

A crowd of youngsters sat on the heated wooden planks of the porch. The sun was setting behind the old man. His crinkled hat lay on the floor beside him. A small burlap sack was parked near his bare feet. His head, topped in matted curls. His unruly strands a color of dulling brass and silver.

“I am Scabby Toe of the Long Dust Road.” he stated. The kids stirred with a little excitement as they recognized his name. They all tried to scoot in a little closer to hear the start of a possible tale. He could see their eyes sparkle like diamonds.

“I don’t remember where I am from. I don’t know where I am now. Sure as the hells will take me, really don’t care where I go. I can promise each of you that I had been there.” he calmly proclaimed. He tugged at the frayed edges of a stained turquoise shirt, and then smoothed flat a purple silk ribbon sash at his waist.

“I believe almost everything I say to be true.” Scab said as he picked up and fumbled through the small poke. He placed it in his lap and then dug out rolling papers and a smaller bag of tobacco. His hands slightly trembled, but he managed to make himself a twisted white quirly. He didn’t bother to light it. He placed it on his lips.

“I watched a gnarly old horned rabbit teach a young lazy mountain goat how to dance.” he blew out coolly. A moment later, the kids might have heard him quietly wishing for a lucifer-stick to light one of the few vices he had left to enjoy. He would almost taste the smoke of brittle bitter leaves in the dry paper.

The kids wanted him to just talk more. Spell a wild tale for them. The silence was growing unbearable. It is almost a common tradition for them to hear stories of any kind from passing strangers. Anything to pour from the old man’s chapped lips might not be new for their ears, but he has a reputation for colorful yarns. Scab resolved to spin something for them. He liked seeing their joy.

The story ended, and Scab found that a couple adult stragglers joined the group. The cowpokes grinned quietly. One of them heavy in the waist was dressed in clean dinner clothes. The other man was skinny and also wore clean clothes. They were not very dapper, nor were they ugly. Both of them passed as simple drifters.

The two new listeners didn’t pass for local boys. They had a trail roughness about them, but it seemed faded. Scab thought they may have spent a day using the village’s grooming services. A hot bath maybe and then a barber visit. Scabby wasn’t exactly sure on this assumption. The fellas seemed to enjoy the story as well.

The three men sat quietly on the porch as the kids picked themselves up. The children splintered off into smaller groups of two or three. Their chatter and retellings of the story drifted off with them. They disappeared to separate corners of the sleepy little village. Scabby was sure they ended their day with a good word.

“Been a long time since I heard the likes from you Ol’ Scabby.” the big man told him.

Scab scrutinized him a moment. The feller looked a little familiar but he couldn’t quite place him within any recent scenes. Then he turned his head to look over the skinny gent. Neither could rattle open the storage loft in his head.

All he could do was stare back. He placed the rolled stale tobacco back onto his lips. It was peculiar to Scabby. They might pass for brothers. Their plainness failed to have any recall in him. They have a familiarity for him that prickled at his neck.

“Not to worry there, Scabby.” The big man said as he caught skinny’s gaze, “The last time we seen you was up at the saloon on that same Watermelon Mountain of yours.”

“How’s Belle?” the skinny man asked.

“She’s holdin’ a grudge over me again.” Scab answered.

“Too bad.” the big man added.

Scabby suddenly remembered these two thugs. They always made themselves available to other peoples’ dirty work. In this case, since they were always sweet for the Lady of the Mountain. They did her bidding for free as often as they could.

He slowly started to draw himself out of the chair, but Skinny pushed him back into it. Scab trundled his weight back, and then acted in a clumsy gesture. He leaned back even further, and waived his arms wildly. The rocking chair slapped down on the porch.

Before either man could react, Scab was on his feet. A small red glow lit on the cigarette that was in his hand. As he aimed it at the larger man, the spark grew to a blinding radiance of white heat. Scab flicked it, and it darted to spot between the big man’s eyes. THOCK! It burned hot, and the wound sizzled loudly.

Tears overwhelmed the big man’s vision, and the searing pain set in. He clawed at his face. He danced and wobbled over the creaking porch planks. His booted feet crossed themselves as he grazed the railing. He lost his balance, and then toppled over. THUD! He landed hard face down on the ground in horse flop.

“You best see to yer friend there.” Scabby warned the skinny man.

The words didn’t register. The skinny man’s face turned outrageously twisted, as he lunged for Scabby. The old man was not found to be there when Skinny reached for him. Scab watched him tackle air as he went by. Skinny crashed against the railing. It was already stressed by the big man, and had nothing left to resist with against the second man. THUMP! He landed on the big man’s back. CRACK! A small part of the railing hit the big man in the head.

Skinny then rolled quickly off his friend. He panicked with a notion that the big man would most likely blame him for the current misgivings. He did not want to be anywhere in the area of the big man. Scab chuckled as he watched Skinny disappear into a distant alley. Scabby rolled himself a new ziggy.

“I might be old, but I am not helpless.” Scab spoke.

Only the unconscious fat man was close enough, but the comment fell into the warm breeze of the night. He brought the unlit tobacco up to his lips. He shrugged to himself knowing he would rather use a match. After a short drag, the quirly blazed.

I had some serious downtime the last couple days with the day job. Been pushing my DOT hours to the brink, so I had to let that reset. It's so'kay. I'd rather be doing my other things like skatching at paper and buzzing the internet sites. I hope you like the new sketches. I have some more pics screaming to get out of my head. They will have to wait.

Aside from legal hour issues, the day job has put me in a stale mood. While I was out on the Canadian Pacific Railyard, it seems I got burned. I really don't know how. Minneapolis, yesterday, felt a lot like Phoenix did two weeks ago. Maybe I overlooked something during the management and handling of the Intermodal trailer I picked up. Lemme tell ya, it is the least favorite part of my day job.

I do envy the Core Development team in many aspects, especially with being in some sort of air conditioned office environment. I am not asking for a trade. I don't really want to be in their boots (shoes, sandals, or whatever) right now. Anyhoo, I respect thier troubles. They do need someplace frosty, to keep moving with thier work.

I hadn't considered the adventures of a riverboat crew and passengers as a possible campaign framework before. I was not aware that the rivers in the Far West were large enough for that kind of endeavor. I'll have to keep it in mind.

zoinks?!? @jehosephat yaaaa.... know, I made the pitch for the brigadier queen like... LOL??? You know what? That hadn't been brought up. Prosperity Landing was the original home page for that site, and my whole concept for the Three Sisters of the Far West got turned up onto its ear. I have the Far West map printed out and with me. Lemme tell ya, it's done some travelling, but I haven't pulled it out of the bag in months.

I couldn't confirm anything by looking at the map. Andrew did a wonderful job with it. I mean it sure is purdy an all, but I haven't considered its scale. I mean there is a big lake in the middle, well sort in the middle. Kinda like a great lake, or salt lake. Well, it doesn't matter what I think it looks like. Anyhoo...

I was thinking the Gan Meros is as wide as the Ohio River. I don't know what the core team has planned. I started writing notes for myself because I was thinking that Prosperity would be modeled off of Westport and Wesport Landing (Kansas City).

I truely don't know. But, that hasn't stopped me from telling my version of a possible story. I personally think works out perfect. I guess I can be more open about how I think of it now. Watermelon Mountain and Sunflower Trail and Prosperity is based on real places for me to work with. At least that is how I had been repainting the Santa Fe Trail.

Heck, in some strange way, Sedoa and Criado can almost match Salt Lake City and Provo. I remember TS saying that Thousand Mesas is a lot like Monument Valley. (shrugs) I don't know.

@jehosephat thank you for looking. That helped me tie back in some other details I put out of my mind. Happy Gaming!

I have a long way to go with expanding this campaign setting. Two new pages: Dust Road Hustle and Seven Rats. I plan to add more about the town. I have been busy with another project which I just finished last night.

Sneak a Peek. Thank you for your support. Stay Safe, and Happy Gaming!Jesse

That is a creative notion about the town founder(s). Since Meros Fork isn't actually identified on Amble's Map, I did speculate with an idea or two that I seen on it. I guess my compass is not 100% accurate. I remember reading a couple stories about the Rat King. In a lot of ways, yes the roads are rat tails tied together. Somehwere on the High Plains between Shattered Pass and Prosperity.

"Ol' Doc here, gets around. He doesn't really deal with the rare stuff. Sometimes he might know where to find a unique item or two. I don't know if his prices are honest or not. I don't usually buy any goods. I have worked for him on occasion to mule stuff around. I don't mind working harder than smarter." - Scabby Toe

I am open to suggestions. Here is a sample. The rest can be found at the link.

FIVE and DIME

The Hook

Welcome to the desolate High Plain ranges of the FAR WEST. The game itself is still pretty young. This is one story within the vast dominion of the Dust Road. The best character roles would be Rookies. Especially since this is a great warm up scenario. Most Initiates and Masters might not obligate themselves to a courier’s task. Even the larger shipping companies might pass on such a simple ordeal.

The Hire

Doctor Marthan D. Tripple is a specialist in the sales of goods, and other curiosities. He travels by horse drawn wagon, and often goes where the money is. He doesn’t run a typical general store or trading post. He likes to travel, and earn a living without any serious overhead. He offers no answer towards being mobile rather than having a centralized operation. If by chance he can’t get someplace, only then he will hire a courier.

“Today is your lucky day.”

Dr. Tripple has other business to attend over in Prosperity. He is in the market to hire a small group of couriers, at least two persons but no more than four. He is offering a fair shake of clipped silver, or a reasonable discount on his wares.

The Buy

A hard working fella, Elbow Wilson, is an aging cattle boss from the area of Seven Rats. He came into town recently with a large herd that is being driven to market. He met Dr. Tripple because he wanted to find something special.

As it is, Elbow is sweet on a young widow back in the town of Seven Rats. Mrs. Ransom had recently become depressed with the anniversary of her husband’s death. Elbow felt they were getting much closer in their relationship. It has been several years since that awful day when Mikori Ransom met his fate.

A nice Netsuke collection is the best Dr. Tripple could offer. Traditionally, these carved buttons were popular Back East inside the Empire since many garments were made without pockets. Purses and Sagemonos were hung on robe sashes and Netsukes served as fancy draw beads. They served a very important role to secure accessories and similar containers on a person.

Their merits were in the artistry. Netsukes varied in size based on practicality. They are made from a variety of materials. Some were made from large animal teeth; some were ivory, while the more common ones were made from walnut wood or bamboo. Very rarely, can such items be found in Silver, Gold, or Jade.

I recently been updating my stuff at http://www.deviantart.com and the recent sepia gold version of Scabby Toe got an instant like and placed into a favorites location within a minute. That was cool, for me. I hope it turns out cool for Far West. I will be pushing more action sketches and other stuff that way too. Their idea of "Far West" needs to meet this idea of the "Far West". I see several nice pics, but... well I am researching for more wuxia/spaghetti western/steampunk.

Speaking of "Far West" in other areas, Simon_W introduced us to the Far West band. This got me to thinking of where I had seen the words Far West crop up. I was out in Willmington, CA about 3 weeks ago (I can't remember exact date). This town, if you look it up, is near Long Beach, Torrance, and Compton. I spotted the Far West Saloon. I haven't followed up on exact address.

Now there is a game I haven't played in years. Out on Facebook, Who Want To Be a Millionair wished everyone Happy Checkers Day. So, when is will it be Happy Chinese Checkers Day? Dang, that gets me to wondering.. how do you play Far West Checkers? I will investigate this.

I wouldn't be surprised if Chinese checkers and er... regular checkers cropped up in the world. Reg. checkers shows up the farther west one goes (less pieces, more mobile) while Chinese checkers iis certainly an eastern thing.

Since I have found myself some serious downtime by means of an Umbilical Hernia, I can spend some time with you fine clever folk.

I was thinking of finally getting the rest of Five and Dime filled out on the website. Most of those notes have been sitting in the rubble of my home office. I can blame the day job for killing my spare time on keeping it in order. Truth is, most of the blame is mine. What spare time I do have is spent on family. The rest of the time during heavy holiday season had been dedicated to keeping the one store chain stocked. I busted my gut for that? ...by Maiden's Tits, why?

As for today, I want to maybe add a pic or two here. Since I am all over the forum with ideas, I just figured to keep myself contained here with them. For now that is. I don't really have any new pitches, yet. The best help I know I can give the core development is stay out of there way. Given, I rattle Gareth's email box mostly. The other fellas are usually safe from my rants. It probably helps them that I haven't found thier email addys.

I had a blast working on the images for Black Crow. It wasn't easy. I had a few hitches in meeting the image quality. "Too Japanese." was one comment. I believe you will like the images, and love the game. I can chatter on about it, but I am actually supposed to wait until Gareth has it ready. So I am bursting at the seams with excitement. I am really looking forward to his addition of flair and color.

Going back to the "Too Japanese" part for a short, that doesn't really bother me. I base most of my ideas on the research I see. I know there are many more people in the world that will know about the Asian Cultures. Especially Gareth. However in a fantasy world such as Far West, I'd think some Far East can be useful in some aspects.

Pure speculation, because I like the set image for Far West. I have no desire to spoil it. I understand that keeping the visual goal is as important to make the whole of Far West work. The Far West Society keeps thier voice heard in the matter. The plasuans have been a fabulous tool in ths respect.

Let me jump back, I think it was in the GenCon video, Gareth said something about visual imagery. In the respect that Spahgetti Westerns are visual, but in Wuxia there really isn't. My first impression and answer to that is Manga. I think a "Too Japanese" remedy that might be the gap where these mashup visuals could coexist also. I have many guides on the subject. Again, more resources, because it easier than just trying to remember what I read. The books can leave me to spend hours on the subject, but that might me boring.

My little comics above are a practice in that art media. I know what would qualify as mistakes, IF I was to adhere to the rules of Manga. In a way, I am experimenting. I'd like to believe that I'm trying to break away from the four traditional styles and the American Manga format as well.

This is not really supposed to be a rant, and I aplogize if it does. It is meant more of an observation over some elements that I've taken note on the last couple months. Gareth has been pretty cool with his updates. I've been reading articles written by T.S. and it is an awsome help to understanding the game and thier goals. I am a little bummed I don't get to see the feedback other Society members, but not upset. I realize that it might not be meant for other readers' eyes. That might be one valid reason why Gareth makes his email addy available.

I think you must've misunderstood me -- because Wuxia is absolutely visual, just as much as Spaghetti Westerns, and via the same medium: film.

Okay. Totally possible that I did misunderstand. I was telling myself to go back and watch the video again. I do remember the link that was also shared about the literature behind Wuxia. As for the film side... sorry, I need to go back to class. Because you are right. There is such a long list of film dedicated to Wuxia.

However, my initial impulse (or reaction) from the video really hasn't changed. Somethng sparked my interest and is a large part of why I started to revisit that idea. Even if it ends up for my own purpose. I have been thinking on it for a while. The Far West visualization fascinates me. I believe there needs to be more of it.

But not just that, I felt that maybe I was getting on the right track about transmedia storytelling. Finding where it can work. Maybe I can blame my lack of clarity (or pain killers), but I still want to try following your example. Expand the trailblazing into this unique genre with an additional tool.

Are those metal rings in her hair going to be her main weapon? Because that would definitely make for an interesting fight scene.

Yes, and yes. Through the haze of memory, I think there was a fight scene in Shanghai Noon. Jackie Chan's character, Chong, had a long braid that got whipped around. Then again, it could have happened in a different movie all together.

The rings did come from some sort of Asian fasion. I seen it in more than one picture.